


the end

by spacebutterfly



Category: Inazuma Eleven GO
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3073286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebutterfly/pseuds/spacebutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raimon was the strongest team - that's what they'd always thought. Nobody could have dreamed that they would really lose at Grand Celesta Galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the end

**Author's Note:**

> A post-chrono stone, pre-galaxy AU. Or is it?

Losing had never been an option, of course. But it wasn't just about that. Because Zanark Avalonic had never truly believed in _losing_. It's only a loss if you don't choose to take a step forwards afterwards.

But what about when there's nothing you can do? When you lose, and there's nowhere to go after that?

***

This sort of feeling is alien to Zanark. It's comparable to an innumerable amount of needles prickling at his skin, seeking to puncture him. But he won't let them, of course. He's never been the sort of person to lose to wavering feelings like these. Even in the face of absolute hopelessness. After all, he couldn't call himself the strongest in history of the lower middle class if he did.

Yet still, it makes him tingle with discomfort.

“It's really over,” says Shindou, daring to utter the words nobody wants to admit. He looks down at Kirino and Shinsuke, crumpled on the floor in defeat, and kneels down with them. It's a silent acceptance of what's to come. A goodbye.

“Nii-san...” mumbles Tsurugi, pressing his forehead against the window of the glass dome that restrains them. Nobody offers him any words of comfort or condolence. What good would lying do?

“How could this happen?” Tenma whispers, choking back tears. “We were going to be the strongest in the galaxy, weren't we? Weren't we unstoppable?” He covers his face, sobbing into his hands. “It's not over...it can't be over!”

“It _is_ over,” says Zanark bluntly, walking over to the window at the front of the dome. Nishiki sits in front of it, with his back to the view of the Earth outside. To put them in such a room, to showcase the destruction of their home planet right in front of their eyes...those aliens have flair.

“How can you be so calm?” Nishiki says quietly, staring at his knees.

“I thought you'd say that,” Zanark snickers. The midfielder doesn't react. “But I'm surprised. It's not like you all to give up. It's very...how do I put it? It's not the Raimon I know.”

“How can you talk like that now?” Nishiki whispers, voice cracking slightly. Zanark averts his gaze. It makes him uncomfortable to see Nishiki like this. He looks over his shoulder at Tenma instead, who is staring at the floor wide-eyed, like someone has pulled his plug.

“Even you, captain?” No reply. The room, so full of people, is so silent and so empty – even the tears have stopped. It's a resounding feeling even worse than sadness. In fact, rather than a feeling at all, it's more like a lack of feeling, which is ten times more frightening.

“We did everything we could...” Tenma says finally, his voice flat, “But it still wasn't enough...and now...” He clutches his own arms, suddenly looking panicked. “And now...”

“We're about to witness something unbelievable,” says Zanark matter-of-factly, gazing back at the planet through the glass. “Something that no human has ever witnessed before, or ever will again.” Tenma makes a strangled cry. Zanark glances at Nishiki as he buries his face in his knees, hugging himself tight like he wants to shrink away, and kneels down next to him. “Oi, Nishiki.” The boy looks up at him, his expression stoic, and Zanark bristles with anger. Nishiki Ryouma isn't _supposed_ to act like this. At least get frustrated! At least get upset! Zanark grabs him by the shoulders, digging in his nails, but Nishiki's expression barely flickers. “Say something, will you? You're pissing me off!”

“What can I do?” Nishiki murmurs, his sunken eyes meeting Zanark's. “There's nothing I _can_ do...up until now, everything we've done...it's all led to...” he trails off. Zanark doesn't like this. He doesn't like it one bit. It's like Nishiki is reflecting the uncertainty in Zanark's own heart, the uncertainty that wants to break out of him from the inside. It's real. Nishiki has given up. Tenma has given up. All of them have already accepted their fate. “But you know,” says Nishiki suddenly, smiling weakly, “I'm glad I got to meet you.” He lets out a laugh which quickly turns into a dry sob.

“Don't say that, you idiot!” snaps Zanark, shaking with what could be anger, or maybe it's anxiousness, he can no longer tell. “Don't fucking say that now!”

“It's true,” pipes up Tenma, and Zanark fixes him with a livid stare. “We've all had so much fun playing soccer together...” The captain squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back tears. “I don't regret anything. I don't regret a single thing. I don't regret this tournament. And I'm sure...even when everyone on Earth is gone...” He pauses, hands shaking, “...I'm sure that...even in heaven, they'll forgive us, because...we t-t-tried our best. Right?”

“Shut up,” hisses Zanark, unable to look at his captain any more. This is too final, too certain. He doesn't want to end his life in a cage like this. Is this his only option?

“Hey, um, Zanark...” says Tenma hesitantly. “M-maybe it's stupid to ask this now, but...” Zanark looks at him. The captain's eyes are wide, like he's just realised something, something important.

“What?” asks Zanark impatiently, even though he already knows what he's going to say. He knows, and yet...

“You...you still have that bike, don't you?” he says, and suddenly everyone in the room looks up at Zanark, as if waking from a stupor. “You can call it up anywhere, right?”

_You want me to go back in time and fix this mess, don't you, Captain? Right now, in this room, I'm the only person who can change the fate of the world. If I say no, I'm throwing away the lives of billions._

_But I was never particularly attached to this planet, and I'm not particularly fond of failure either. If this team, made up of I, Zanark Avalonic, and history's strongest players, couldn't even win...then who's to say that repeating the same scenario will change a thing?_

_It's not that I gracefully accept defeat. It's that I won't become a pawn in a game that's impossible to win._

“That's right, isn't it?” says Nishiki suddenly, grasping Zanark by the shoulders. “You could do it. You could go back, and we could go through the tournament again. All we need is one more chance!” Zanark stares at the ground, gritting his teeth.

“You can do it, right? I mean, you're _Zanark._ You're the only guy in the world who could do this!”

Zanark looks up.

There's a glimmer of hope in Nishiki's eyes.

***

“I never expected it to come to this,” rumbles Coach Kuroiwa, his voice echoing off the walls of the narrow corridor. Maybe Zanark is imagining it, but his voice holds a tint of sarcasm.

“I never expected _you_ to know about time travel,” Zanark smirks, crossing his arms. Kuroiwa grins at him.

“There is hope for the future of the Earth, of course. Your very existence is proof of that fact. But you do realise that this will be no simple do-over.” Zanark furrows his brow.

“Do you know how we can win?”

“One does not simply know how to win. He must discover the answer through his own toils.” Kuroiwa glares at him through his dark glasses. “We may not even succeed after our first time jump, nor the second, nor even the third. Do you understand?”

Zanark stares. “As far as I can understand, I'm about to throw myself away for the sliver of a chance to save this goddamn planet. And so are you.”

There's a moment of silence before Kuroiwa speaks again. “Perhaps I already did.

Zanark Avalonic. Rid yourself of that name. Rid yourself of what makes you you. If you hold on to the past, you won't have the strength to save the Earth. You must forget it all. Are you prepared to do that?” Zanark grits his teeth. Once he's made this step, things will never be the same again.

“Am I prepared?” he sneers. “Who do you think I am?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a long time ago, when we didn't really know how Galaxy was going to go. I was thinking about Chrono Stone's idea of parallel worlds...and ~resetting the timeline~
> 
> So I guess you could consider it some kind of idea of a Galaxy prequel?


End file.
